“Sometimes God breaks your heart to save your soul.”
This was a journal entry at one of the lowest points of my life, in the midst of recovering from a binge eating disorder. It happened 6 months ago around my 24th birthday, in the summer of 2018. A few months afterward, I exited a nearly 8-year relationship with my first boyfriend and quit my first full-time job with an amazing company.
I didn’t realize my birthday was in two days. Upon waking up, I thought to myself: “did I as a little girl imagine that one day I’d be living the way I am right now? Painfully, stagnant, and failed?” I felt like I let myself down. I painfully reminisced and nearly hated myself for, at one point in university, indulging in such a carefree sentiment of how I could not wait to get out of school, into the real world, and finally make it happen.
It is really uncomfortable to confront the thought of the fact that I am disappointed in myself. I feel like I let ~2.5 solid years pass by: 1 year mourning the collapse of my relationship, that I am still currently in; 1 year struggling and recovering from a disordered behaviour of binge eating.
I am unsettled with the choices I have made so far. I am unsure of the person I, at one point, decided was going to be my future husband. I am unsure of the work I do, which I, at one point, decided was going to be my life-long career. With the realization I had this past year that I was put on this earth to be a martial artist and a creative entrepreneur, I am unsure if I can ever do or let alone be worthy of manifesting this realization.
I am deeply scared and lost when I come to terms with the fact that many outlooks and positions I previously held did not serve me because they were not in true alignment with me.
I now realize that so many times that my body has always been my guardian angel. I have only just come to decide to honour my body, trust my instincts, and revere the powerful and majestic force of nature that it is.
This brings me to my realization today. Whenever there is pain or frustration, I am happy, because that means that whatever I am doing is working. It is like the pain of trying to build muscle, the agonizingly slow, inch-by-inch growth of a tree, or the breath-escaping very first few moments of making a decision to start believing in yourself – so much is unseen, yet so much has been planted. I finally realize that I have been planted, and that with steadfast faith and nourishment, I shall bloom.
Today I was finally able go home after my sparring session with joy. The joy of knowing that the only way for me to get better at sparring is repetition, so that my brain can collect and process data into patterns, so that it can formulate the necessary neural pathways and engrain them into my motor functions to make me a better martial artist.
Therefore, there is never a failure of a sparring session. Every session is always a miracle – it is a unique, one and only moment in time. It is a chance that my brain would have never otherwise had to collect and process data, data as in the incredible human experience of being able to move and breath, in order to transform my body, the being that my mind controls, into what I was put on earth to do.
Whatever I am doing, it is working.